


The Day Our Voices Broke

by crucify (victimsoul)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, i hope those tags are accurate. idk man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victimsoul/pseuds/crucify
Summary: vignettes of oblivious affection
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	The Day Our Voices Broke

**Author's Note:**

> its about the yearning. its about the intricate rituals. its about being gay

At this point, Martin was more comfortable with the Archives than anyone had any right being. He knew most people found the Magnus Institute unnerving, but he honestly didn’t mind the Archives. Sure, he had read the statements and heard the stories, but he had never actually seen anything spooky in the Archives themselves (the same couldn’t be said for his flat, at this point), and there was something cozy about the basement the Archives called home. With the rest of the institute thinking themselves above archival work, preferring “real work” to sitting around shelving books, or whatever they thought the archival staff did, the people who worked there were really the only people who spent any sort of time in the Archives. This space he shared with his boss and coworkers almost… started to feel like home, in a way nowhere else ever had. He had always had a space he could call his, like his small childhood room and his impersonal studio flat, but it had never felt as good as this. Which was ironic, because he was only living here due to the uncharacteristic kindness of his boss after a supernatural worm attack, and he was sharing the space with coworkers instead of friends or family. But if he didn’t think about the circumstances leading to his new living arrangements, he could steal moments here and there to pretend this was a place a person could call home. And that, more than anything, made his stay in the Archives bearable.

As it was such a small place, he knew the Archives like the back of his hand, despite the short amount of time he had been there. He knew every corner of it, from the broken Ikea shelf that he and the other assistants placed bets on when it would next collapse, to the locked trap door Elias claimed lead only to an unneeded old storeroom. He enjoyed the way the underground location completely muffled any outside noise, allowing him to experience a true quiet that he couldn’t anywhere else in London’s cramped metropolis. And he liked that he got to experience the middle ground between living completely alone and living in a cramped space without privacy. He knew the Archives were empty at this time of night, but Tim, Sasha, and Jon would be back the next day, and every day after that. He only wished he didn’t have to spend his nights alone. It was cold in the archives, and despite the assurances of air-tightness and safety from worms, there always seemed to be a chill when Martin was the only one there. 

He had just finished recording his most recent poem on tape and was ready to climb into bed. It was a short thing, reflecting on the change of seasons from winter to spring, and it was certainly not full of clichéd and tortured metaphors about love’s potential power to thaw a certain cold heart. No, it was simply a straightforward poem about the seasons. And that is what he would say if anyone asked.

As he got settled, Martin was startled by the sound of footsteps approaching. The Archives were always empty at this time of night, so if it wasn’t his coworkers it had to be… Something worse. That was not what he meant when he wished not to spend the night by himself, that was for sure.

Before he could finish spiraling over the idea of dying alone, the storage room door opened, causing him to almost jump out of his skin. Deciding it best not to alert the intruder to his wakefulness, Martin stayed on his side facing the door with his eyes still closed, but he reached for the corkscrew he kept under his pillow for self-defense. Hopefully the person would leave him alone if they thought him asleep, but if not, Martin wouldn’t go down without a fight. When he didn’t hear any more movement, he opened his eyes slightly to see if he could see the intruder. 

Standing in the doorway was a silhouette, tall and thin. A silhouette that looked kind of like…. Jon? It crossed the room cautiously, with long-legged steps and Martin closed his eyes again. When it was close enough, Martin realized it brought the smell of mint and old paper with it. It was Jon (and Martin kicked himself for being able to know that by smell… Creepy much?). Martin contemplated letting him know he was awake, but before Martin could make up his mind, Jon sat on the bed next to his legs. Martin stayed as still as he could, waiting to see what his boss would do. Was he here to wake him up? Make him do work in the middle of the night as penance for past mistakes? ….Kill him, finally completely fed up? Oh God, Martin was already kicking himself over spilling tea on Jon’s desk and some statements earlier today, and now he was going to be killed for it. 

However, instead of doing any of that, Jon opened his mouth. “Martin... I...” It was barely a whisper, but Martin heard it. How could he possibly miss it? His name, finally said with tenderness, rather than indifference or annoyance, by the object of his affection? He must be dreaming. It’s not like he hadn’t had many dreams that started just like this. 

Martin felt more than heard Jon reach a hand towards his face. He almost wanted to open his eyes, to show Jon he was awake and there and ready to listen to whatever he had to say, but whatever it was, it seemed Jon had changed his mind abruptly, as the hand was snatched back to his chest and Jon stood back up quickly . Even with his eyes closed, Martin could feel Jon’s piercing gaze on him as he stood there for another moment before he finally turned around and walked out of the room quietly. Once he was certain he heard the sound of Oxfords retreating, Martin rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He dared to peak at the door, but there was no one there. Of course there was no one there. He had waited until he heard Jon retreat to look, there was no reason for him to expect Jon to still be there. The only things left in the room were boxes of statements, fire extinguishers and the lingering feeling of being watched. 

What the fuck was that? 

And what would have happened if Jon had known he was awake? 

Martin knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep at this point. His mind was already racing with what-ifs. He allowed himself to hope, just for a moment, that this was a turning point, and that things would be different tomorrow. That Jon would ask him for his input and thank him for the tea and show Martin he cares. ...As if. Martin quashed that hope and turned onto his side again, attempting to quiet his mind in the hope he could find sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i live for comments please feel free to leave some<3 also if you are the one magnuspod fan who listens to butcher boy out there thank you for introducing me to them through a caption on your art. they are literally all i am capable of listening to now.


End file.
